


Agony of Choice

by Higgystar



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, Gen, darylwhump!, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 03:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2295275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whilst escaping Terminus, Daryl doesn't realise he's injured until it's almost too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agony of Choice

At first he doesn’t notice it. Honestly Daryl isn’t sure if it’s because of the adrenaline rushing through him or the fact that there’s too much going on to give a stray thought to himself, but he doesn’t notice it at all. He’s too focussed on knocking out as many of the strange men as he can, ducking from the gunfire, checking over his shoulder to check that everyone else was following and kicking at another door until it gave way. They’re running, they’re shouting, all stealth has been forgotten and really now it’s a case of bolting for their lives and hoping that luck was on their side.

Bullets fly around them, smacking into the ground at their feet, kicking up dust into their eyes and Daryl considers it a fucking miracle that they’re all still running together as a group. Rick leads the way, of course he does, and behind them he can hear the group following, some grabbing downed weapons and returning fire, others using their knives when they manage to get close enough and though they have no chance of winning this battle, they at least manage to put a dent in the numbers.

It doesn’t take anywhere as long as it feels, he knows it’s only been a few minutes, but honestly it feels like a few hours they’ve been running and darting in and out of rooms until they find it. Open space, solid ground and a gate in the fence leading to freedom. He remembers grabbing the back of Carl’s jacket, practically dragging the kid in front of him and ignoring the feel of pain, like a punch to his side, as he gets them the hell out of there.

His legs ache, breathing is difficult with each new step but he doesn’t stop running, not when out here there were walkers, people and no guarantee of safety. Terminus was not better though and at least out here, they could take their chances with the rest of the world. They don’t stop running, their feet pound together against the ground in a rhythm, he can see Rick glance back to check on their numbers and it’s not until they’re far away from terminus, hunkered down on the edge of a rundown town far away from any traintracks, that they can all just breathe.

It’s not till they’re all slumped on the ground, panting for breathe and checking they haven’t been followed that he realises he’s still got Carl’s jacket in a death grip. Carefully he releases him, feeling his fingers cramp and tense as blood suddenly filters back into them and as if that movement was the catalyst for his body resetting itself; that’s when he feels it.

Pain blossoms down his side, not just a dull ache, but a sharp cut, a stab, a throb and a flare of pure bright pain directly inside of himself. His panting for breath becomes more desperate, and though his fingers are still a little numb he presses them to the centre of it all, blinking down at himself and grunting when his hand comes away sticky and warm.

No words come to him in that moment, instead it’s as if reality comes crashing down on him and all the pain hits his nerves like a two tonne truck. He’s dealt with pain before, but this was something new, something intense and lodged inside of him where it shouldn’t be. He knows he should say something, anything, but all he can manage to piece together is that his blood shouldn’t be there.

“Daryl!”

He doesn’t even look up at the mention of his name, instead he finds himself falling backwards, feeling heavy, feeling lost and even the dirty floorboards smacking against his back doesn’t hurt as much as this. Breathing heavily he presses his fingers together, feeling the wetness of the blood there and gritting his teeth as the pain flares up again. It’s wrong, it’s so wrong and now everything was fucked up and he’s panicking.

Breathing is hard, people are looming over him and he doesn’t know what he’s looking for, but his eyes search every single one of their faces as if there would be an answer there for him. There are none. He’s lost, he’s bleeding and everyone else looks as panicked above him as he feels from the floor.

In a second everyone is moving, some backing away, others moving closer and despite the knowledge that they’re all talking above him, he can only make out little snaps of words between the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears.

“Shot…pack it…no exit wound…leave the bullet…got to stop the bleeding…”

His vision is blurry, he’s just not sure if it’s tears or shock, but he can see, just about, even if it all feels wrong to see from this angle. A part of him expects Merle to be there, but his brother is absent among the faces and instead he’s looking up at people he considers family.

Hands press over his sides, he can hear the tear of fabric and damn it’s still cold, didn’t they need their clothing for other things? Pressure increases on his side, there’s more hands, someone is talking to him as Bob barks more orders and fuck he really feels dizzy and sick right now. His heartbeat is getting faster as is his breathing, there’s a wetness on his cheeks and he’s not sure if it’s more blood, tears or sweat.

Groaning a little he wants to ask how bad it is, but the words won’t come, instead there’s simply a whimper of pain as Carl’s worried face looms above him. The kid looks scared, he’s crying and maybe that’s where the wetness on his face had come from.

Daryl can feel the pain of others helping him, the sharp sting of it making him arch up and yell to let it all out. More pressure is added, something is shoved into the wound and it’s the strangest feeling to have something actually physically pushing inside of his body to save him. It’s worse than the arrow wound, there was no exit, there was just a hole and blood and panic over what was going to happen to him.

Then it hits him in one moment of pure realisation and he’s reaching up, fingers still coated in his own blood, stained deep red as he flits his gaze about enough to grab at Rick’s arm. The other man is kneeling over him, probably trying to help Bob with the wound, but there’s something more important he needs to tell him right now.

“You c-can’t…” It fucking burns to talk, Rick tries to hush him but he needs to say this, he needs to fucking say this now before it was too late. “Don’t l-let Carl do it…” He manages to hiss, the exertion of talking taking it out of him, making him slump back and face the gaze of the kid still cradling his head in his lap.

Memories flit through him, and though he wasn’t there, he remembers the look on the kid’s face when they’d talked in the tombs. He remembers losing his own mom, how much it had hurt even though he hadn’t been there, and he knows it couldn’t have compared to the pain of having to kill your own mother yourself. He wouldn’t do that to Carl, not that he was as close as his mom had been, but they were family, and the kid didn’t need that.

More pressure is added to his side, someone calls for him to stay awake, but he doesn’t want to anymore, not when it was this hard to focus and this painful. It used to be his escape when he was younger too, when things got bad and hurt so much, he’d go to sleep, find a place where it didn’t hurt anymore and he could just rest for a while. He can feel hands cradling his head, holding the sides of his face as he lets his eyes close, uncaring of what they did now, and just wanting the pain to stop.

It aches, it burns, though he doesn’t recall waking up, he knows there’s been pills and water, someone’s hands on him and more pressure and people caring for him. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, or what’s been happening around him, all he knows is that when he manages to open his eyes again, it’s dark. The floor beneath him seems softer, there’s something beneath his head and beside the throbbing pain in his side, there’s also the need to go to the bathroom.

“You’re awake, thank God, we didn’t know if you were going to make it.”

Rick is beside him, sheathing his knife in one smooth motion and inching closer. A hand reaches out to his forehead, feeling for a fever no doubt and he grunts a little at the contact. “Need a piss.” He mumbles, trying to carefully inch himself upwards, finding that rolling onto his side is a little difficult and that the homemade bandages wrapped about his side crumple a little at the movement. It hurts, but Rick helps him as much as he can and though practically all his weight is on the other man, they manage to prop him up enough that he can relieve himself in a corner of the room.

It’s not ideal, but right now he’s far too exhausted to care about it, especially when staggering the few paces across the room has taken it out of him. He’s relieved when Rick helps him to sag back down onto the floor, the makeshift bed barely cushioning him at all as he lays back. He hurts all over, even if the wound was only to his side, it feels as if his entire body is broken. Rick takes up the spot beside him again, the knife remaining sheathed and he’s grateful for that.

“It bad?” He asks, letting his eyes close again, ignoring the throbbing in his head and letting himself rest whilst Rick held vigil over him.

“Bullet is out. Got itself lodged in the muscle, thankfully it didn’t hit anything major.” Rick tells him and he takes a moment to open his eyes and look up at the other man. He looks tired, like he hasn’t slept in days and Christ it reminds him of when they took the prison. When everyone else found a bed and slept and Rick stayed vigilant, watching over them all just in case. “You were lucky.”

Huffing a little in agreement he wonders if dealing with this much pain in his side really counts as being lucky, but then the only other alternative was far too permanent for his liking. “Bullet, arrow, think there’s anything else out there that wants to get shot into me?” He asks him, but his attempt at humour doesn’t seem to work as well as he’d hoped it would. This was what he hated, being unable to prove himself well. When things really did hurt enough to keep him down for a while and people gave him that godamned sympathetic look all the time. “Hey, you don’t stop looking at me like that and I’m gonna have to hit you.”

That gets him a response, and tiny smirk at the corner of Rick’s mouth and if he’s not mistaken the tiniest of chuckles. It’s enough and though he still hurts he feels as if he’s accomplished something.

“We stayin’ here?” He asks, gazing up at the same ceiling above him as when he’d passed out and glancing around to note the still sleeping forms around them. It’s not an ideal location, it’s still far too close to terminus for their liking, he knows that and so does Rick. The other man knows him well enough to read between the lines and hear what he’s really asking.

_When do we need to move on?_

“For the moment. It’s secure for now, there are only a few walkers around and there’s not been a sign of anyone from terminus following us. I think they know it wouldn’t be worth the effort.” Rick looks a little proud at that remark and Daryl can understand why. They’re been reduced to animals in this world, and making it to the top of the food chain was a blessing. If no one was willing to hunt you, then life became easier, just a little, but enough to allow you to breathe a bit calmer. They shouldn’t be proud of the fact that other people saw them as dangerous, but it was better and safer than being seen as weak.

Daryl takes a moment to lay back, looking at the ceiling above them and noting the bags and supplies that have been built up since he’s been out. They may be predators, but they were still scavengers and with winter approaching faster every single day, they’d have to find somewhere safe to whole up sooner rather than later. “Just need a couple more days rest and I’ll be good to go.” He nods, fully aware of his body’s capabilities but also knowing exactly what needed to be done. Daryl didn’t intend to be the reason they weren’t prepared for anything.

“We’ve got time.” Rick tells him, running his hands through his hair and glancing around the room. Daryl can see the moment his eyes trail over Carl, worried, proud and a mix of every other emotion possible. “If we’re lucky we’ll find a car, or a truck we can use. It’ll make things easier for all of us.”

True. Travelling on foot was acceptable for a while, but there were only so many things they could carry without taking away from their energy and leaving them all exhausted. A car would make things a lot easier and heck, right now he’s not sure when he’ll be walking again anyway. Still apart from travelling away from here, there’s one question on his mind. “Where’re we gonna go?” He asks, moving a hand to his raw and aching side, feeling the tightness of their make shift bandages around him.

Rick pauses, he seems a little wary of continuing and Daryl has a feeling that whatever he’s about to say has been weighing on his mind for a while. Yet again Rick had kept his worries to himself instead of sharing them. He wasn’t sure if he blamed the other man or himself for not being conscious. “Abraham says Eugene’s got a cure, a way to fix all of this.” Rick explains, shrugging a little and Daryl can see that he’s not exactly sure of himself as he speaks. “Wants to get him to Washington, says we can beat this thing.”

Washington, out of Georgia, away from what they’re known and dealt with throughout this whole thing. Maybe that was a good thing, but maybe it wasn’t. There were no methods of communication anymore, no news and no idea if anywhere was safe. “You believe him?” Daryl finds himself asking, because as much as he’d never wanted to before, nowadays you had to put your faith in people.

“I’m not sure what I believe anymore.” Rick answers with a sigh, letting his head tilt back to hit the wall with a thunk. He looks tired, bone tired. Like he needs to sleep for a year to feel normal again. The weight of it all is sitting on his shoulders and Daryl wishes there was a way for him to help more. “You think it’s worth taking a chance on people we barely know?” Their leader asks him and he’s missed this. When he was alone and then with the claimers, he’d been out of place, lost and alone in more ways than one. But now, back with Rick, things fell back into place easily and he knew he was meant to be right here beside him and trying to help.

“They haven’t tried to kill us yet.” He points out, hand to his side and cursing internally when he takes too deep a breath. Rick goes to move closer and Daryl has to lift a hand to get him to back off and give him the space he needs. “Makes them better than some.” Because though there were bad people still out there, he knew there had to be some good left too.

It’s a risk, but right now was it a risk worth taking? Either way they wouldn’t be moving anytime soon, and it seemed no one had left the safety of their numbers. “True.” Rick ends up sighing, scratching at his beard before continuing. “But Washington is far. Could take a long time, and we don’t know what’s there for us. Maybe safety, maybe something worth travelling that far for, but who knows anymore?” He sounds defeated, and right now they can’t afford to give up whatever hope they had left.

Trying to lighten the mood a little he nudges at Rick’s leg, wanting to get his attention off the worries that plague him. “Ain’t never left Georgia before.” He tells him, smirking at the idea of finally getting that vacation he’d always thought bout. Better late than never. “We ain’t got nothing worth staying here for, why not take a chance?” What did they have to lose really? Besides things couldn’t get much worse.

Rick gives a small huff of a laugh, barely there, but it’s enough to let Daryl know he’s back in the here and now and not as lost as he had been. It’s not a lot, but he can’t exactly take him out hunting right now to help clear his mind. “We’ll discuss it more when you’re on your feet again. For now, just get some rest and feel better soon.”

Daryl gives a nod in reply, settling back against the floor and letting the exhaustion of the past few days take over him. Right now he can’t do a lot to help, but even if all he can do whilst laid up, is get Rick to stay focussed and positive, then maybe it’s enough. It has to be enough. 


End file.
